


Arms Unfolding

by beeyouteaful



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Personal Growth, Songfic, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeyouteaful/pseuds/beeyouteaful
Summary: Is there any coming back from a broken relationship?





	Arms Unfolding

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off the song ["Arms Unfolding"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aW8ZN43UMA) by dodie, on her new EP "Human." It's a song about learning to fall in love with someone again.

“What are we doing here, Tom?” she asked, voice wavering.

She didn’t look up at him. How could she? After all they’d lost? After everything they said? After what they did?

“I think…” he began, unsure. “I think we’re trying.”

 

 _Hope I'm not tired of rebuilding  
_ _’Cause this might take a little more  
_ _I think I'd like to try to look at you  
_ _And feel the way I did before_

 

He watched her fingers flex against her bicep, an almost imperceptible movement of reassurance to herself, as she held her arms firmly across her chest. He couldn’t bear to look at her anymore, but he couldn’t look away either. She hated him.  _He_ hated him. But he didn’t hate her, not really. He was just hurt—they both were.

Her body shuddered with a forced breath. She was already crying, he knew.

“It’s going to take a lot of time.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

He didn’t know what to say next. She wasn’t really giving him anything to work with. In truth, this was as hard for him to admit as it was for her to hear it. He was stubborn, and she was exhausted. The memories of their fights seeped into the living room and choked him like secondhand smoke from Cuban cigars in a gentlemen’s lounge.

Like the one she caught him sneaking away to.

He ran his long fingers through his curls, taking a deep breath and trying to work through what he could say to her to make this easier. It was tough, but he didn’t come all this way just to back out. He wanted the old them back. The first them. The them that laughed together; the them that would talk for hours about anything; the them that could take on the world.

But they hadn’t been them for a long time.

 

 _Oh, our fire died last winter  
_ _All of the shouting blew it out  
_ _You know I could live without or with you  
_ _But I might like having you about_

 

This was no time for soft words. He needed to be direct. Blunt. Totally clear.

“(Y/n)...”

He could see her swallow hard from his spot at the wall diagonal from the sofa. She inhaled deeply, and then turned to look at him. Her eyes shimmered with the reservoir of fat tears that fell silently down her cheeks—the cheeks he used to wipe those exact tears from. The cheeks he used to kiss. The cheeks that would bulge up with the corners of her mouth every time she smiled at him. But they held no smile now; the permanent frown etched into its place tugged at the pit of his stomach. How could they have destroyed each other like this?

The woman he once knew so dearly waited incredulously to hear what he had to say. He didn’t know what to tell her. Would it be enough to pour his heart out to her again after he’d spent so much time steeling himself against her harsh words? Would she even be receptive?

Yes, she’d yelled at him. A lot. Loudly. He deserved it after what he’d done. But she had no right to push him out in the first place. If they had just talked more—had been open to hear each other’s insecurities as well as disclose their own—maybe he wouldn’t have left.

 

 _Yes, these new walls are pretty hard to crack  
_ _And it might take a while until I trust you won't attack  
_ _Oh, I’d apologize, but it was only self-defense  
_ _Running away just made sense_

 

Tom inched closer to the sofa, watching her watch him. She bit her bottom lip and blinked at him as he knelt before her. He lifted a hand tentatively, giving her enough time to push him away if she wanted. But she didn’t. She let him reach for her, brushing the salty tears on her left cheek with his thumb. His palm opened and cupped her jaw, and he used his thumb again to caress her soft face. He could tell she wanted to lean into his touch, but she was still too wary of him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered through his own forming tears. “I know you are, too.”

A sudden sob burst through her tight lips. She lunged at him, arms wrapping around his neck as she buried her face into his shoulder. Tom let go of his sadness; he was truly and utterly relieved. His arms rubbed gentle circles on her back as he cried into her hair.

She didn’t hate him, not really. She was just hurt—they both were.

It took everything in his power not to collapse with her in his arms, but the weight of everything came crashing down on him. He couldn’t figure out how long they sat like that, and he never found out. He lay back on the floor with her in his arms and held her to his chest. Tears had ceased, but the healing-hurt was still fresh. He felt her breath even out as his heavy, puffy eyes fell shut.

They stayed like that until morning, when the sun of a new day—a new opportunity to find their old selves—shone in through the still open curtains and thawed them for each other.

 

 _But here I am with arms unfolding  
_ _I guess it isn't quite the end  
_ _Old partner in crime, I'm going to try  
_ _To fall in love with you again_

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I was exaggerating when I say that I physically cannot listen to, sing, or think about this song without falling into sobs of absolute tragedy, but I had to write this. It's such a beautiful song and a beautiful and mature idea. I don't think I've ever written anything so fast in my life.


End file.
